Pretty When You Cry
by Meredith Bronwen Mallory
Summary: Before leaving to retake Naboo, Anakin and Padme try to get a better understanding of one another.


Hiiii! Thanks for bothering to take a look at my story. I really appreciate it! 

This is, like the title says, an Ani/Ami one shot taking place during the Phantom Menace. It's supposed to fit between when Anakin sees the council and they leave for Naboo. Technically, I'm not sure it would work in the time constraints, but please humor me and pretend there was a slight layover when leaving for Naboo. ;-)

I just love thinking about what Padme might have had to do with Anakin's fall... 

That said, I will love, adore, and name my next child after you if you'd give me feedback! ^_~

~Meredith 

  
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Pretty When You Cry   
by Meredith Bronwen Mallory   
mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com   
http://www.demando.net/   
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Anakin had been very careful with his wording when he'd asked for permission to go see Padme, but he'd been so nervous looking up at Qui-Gon and crossing his fingers behind his back that now he couldn't remember a thing he'd said. The Jedi Master had nodded, giving Anakin specific instructions about where to report to and what time, and he'd even elbowed Obiwan when the older boy had opened his mouth. Anakin had kept himself from running, especially when he left the Temple, but once he got to the Nubian Embassy he had run as fast as his legs would carry him, nearly scrambling up the last two flights of steps on all fours. It was only now that he was standing with his finger touching the smooth button next to the Queen's door that he found he'd dropped his voice somewhere and couldn't think of any reason why he should bother Padme. He pressed the little metal circle inward, listening to the muted chime that sounded behind the barrier. The door parted into two colored lenses, pulling aside to reveal the red on silver on red of the Queen's chambers, but the chairs where empty and even the guards where gone. Trapped when the door irised back together, Anakin shifted from foot to foot, raking his hand through his hair. In the distorted, smooth monochrome walls his reflection was a misshaped blur. He couldn't tell if his hair looked any better than before. It was good manners though, he remembered some one saying, to be presentable. His lungs held onto a single breath, before he ever so gently pushed with that strange, inside part of himself. The Force, Qui-Gon said. That sounded so big–in Anakin's young mind, everything was relative. He turned swiftly and peeled aside the heavy velvet curtain, stepping into a smaller chamber. 

He didn't see Padme at first, but he knew she was crying. Tiny beads of her sadness seemed to slide along his arms, and if he put them around her he thought they might both drown in it. At last, his eyes found her; she was on the scalloped chaise lounge, not sitting because she was curled a little bit inward and her legs were twined together for comfort. He'd seen girls cry before; his mother, some of his friends, even Jira, but Padme did it differently. She didn't cover her face with her hands and she didn't shake, she just rested her head against the pillows, staring off inside herself while tears rolled down her cheeks like the myth called rain. She wasn't ashamed to be sad, and it was rather beautiful. 

"Hello," she said, and he put his hand to his mouth because he knew he'd said something to get her attention and was afraid of what it had been. 

"Hi," he shifted feet again, watching the strange tilt of her lips. Her eyes where polished opal under the shield of her worry, and she watched him with a softness he'd only seen in his mother's eyes. The texture was different, though. "Qui-Gon said I could come and see you." 

"That was nice of him," Padme turned on her side and patted the new empty space beside her. 

"Uh-huh," Anakin swallowed his frustration. He'd never learned any words for this sort of thing. Quickly, he hoisted himself up beside the young handmaiden, sitting with his legs dangling over the cushions because he knew it was also good manners not to put your feet on the furniture. A shawl, all crusted velvet, was piled behind Padme–he took the edge of it in his hand and touched it to her damp cheeks haphazardly. It was a better way to ask her what was wrong than to say it. 

Padme's lips were lax as she said, "The Queen is going back to Naboo." 

"I know. Qui-Gon and I are going with you. Obi-Wan, too." 

"That makes me feel better." There was a brief flash of exaltation in her cheeks. Color, too. "I don't know what will happen to the Queen when we get back home–I don't know how we'll save our people, but we have to. We won't fail, because I can't even think about what it would be like if we did, but I'm just not sure how we're going to get this done." She laughed, tilting her face upward, "I'm not making any sense." 

"You are," Anakin promised, "We have to win, and you can't think about anything else. The" he moved his arms helplessly, trying to find the word, "the galaxy wouldn't let that happen." The Force," she breathed, and her body tensed with hope, "Is that what 

you mean?" 

"I guess," he drew little patterns in the cushions with his fingers, "I just know what's always been with me. I guess it's the Force." A pause, "Qui-Gon says it is." 

Padme made a little sound in the back of her throat, like a little cat that had exhausted itself mewling to be let in. She grabbed his hand suddenly, and he was sure his heart was in his palm and she was squeezing it and it didn't hurt a bit. 

"This is going to sound so selfish," her gaze dipped into his eyes, before she turned her head, staring off into the strange landscapes of her mind, "But I can't.. I can't just sit here and wait." Their hands were moving together now, fingers weaving together, touching each other in a type of dance. He didn't even think she noticed. "Six hours. I know we have to wait. I should pray, I should plan, but there's nothing to do. We won't know anything until we get to Naboo and send scouts to the capital. I just want to go some place and walk around, see people, just know there are real live people." Her free hand moved through her hair savagely, she bit her lips until they were as red and bright as the Tatooine sunset. "In the senate, it sometimes doesn't seem like that." Now she was looking into his eyes again, and she wasn't breathing. "Will you come with me? I don't want to be alone right now." 

"Yeah," he said, because a 'yes' would somehow sound different, mean something else. He was thinking that she could never be selfish, because she was Padme and in his mind she could have whatever she wanted. 

Padme stood from the couch, and for the first time Anakin saw hat she was in her nightgown, looking like a little girl instead of someone five years older than he. At the moment, the gap between them seemed impassable. 

"Wait just a second," she said, sounding a little better even if the tears were still hiding in her voice. Smoothly, she stepped behind the black wood, peach-silked screen and he heard the rustle of cloth and the opening of drawers. Blushing, Anakin looked away- he couldn't see anything, but that wasn't the point. Padme was slipping on her shoes when she emerged, holding her skirts back and bracing herself against the dresser all with the same hand. Expertly, she twisted her hair back and pinned it with two combs shaped like wings. "When does Qui-Gon want you back?" she asked, frowning as she tied a white sash and silver charm about her waist. She smiled only half way, fingering it's smooth surface. "In case someone needs to get ahold of me." 

"Oh, I see. He just said to come to the hangar in time for take off." Anakin managed, taking in his hand the cloak she reached for and holding it out like he'd seen in the two-coin holovids that sometimes stopped in Mos Espa. She had to kneel for him to be able to settle it around her shoulders; the little silver and china clasp refused to cooperate with his small fingers, but he felt a small burst of pride when he saw that his japor snippet still hung about her neck. It made him more clumsy, so that his hand brushed the two tiny bones near her neck and he dropped the little ornament all together. Padme's own hands moved his away, gently, and she laughed as she rose to her full height. Not laughing at him, but at herself for indulging him-- and that was worse. Her fingers smoothed his hair, mussing his hair like a kid brother, before she took his hand and lead him through the door. All the way through the building and down the block, he fisted his hand around hers as tight as he could, angry and frustrated for reasons far too nebulous for him to express. If she felt any pain, if she noticed he was making it, she didn't say anything. 

He'd forgiven her by the time they reached the wide plaza that stretched between the Republic Archives and museum building. Tall, dark spires pierced the blue-on-gray sky above, with walk-ways and rail-ways strung between them like decorations, Anakin watched the blurred forms moving along them and understood what Padme had meant when she said 'people'. This was the crowd, raw and human-not-so-human-repitilian-aquarian but all somehow so alive. You just knew some of them were the happiest they'd ever been, so were the saddest and some were just trudging along; there was an old, comforting lullaby in the murmur of their voices and it was nice to know you weren't the only one. Absently, Anakin touched his thumb over Padme's smooth knuckles, trying to ease any damage he might have done. The wind made lonely sound as it curved around the towers and brushed across the plaza, but it felt good on Anakin's face. They shared a look, like they were drinking the wind. 

"I feel a bit more human now," Padme said in one small breath. Her white shoes make little clicking noises on marble as she lead him deeper into the crowds. "Come on, there used to be a pavilion close by. I haven't been here in a while, but I hope it's still around." 

Anakin didn't answer; his mouth formed an 'O' as he watched the fountains grow on the horizon; great jets of water rising like the plumes of desert birds. The sound was like the beating of his blood in his veins, loud and somehow comforting. Seeing the awe drenching his face, Padme laughed, and this time he wasn't angry at all. 

"I've never seen so much water!" he exclaimed, letting go of her hand to run towards the impossibility. His palms hit the stone rim as he leaned over to watch the fabled liquid lap against the barrier. 

"It's a nice sound, isn't it?" Padme came up beside him, resting her slim hand on her shoulder and smiling briefly at their reflections. "At home I hear it all the time. Theed was built on a waterfall." 

"Theed?" he repeated, thrusting his hands into the water. The ripples erased Padme's mirror; as it faded back in, he thought he saw her matured and crying and beautiful beyond belief, with a crimson butterfly spreading on her chest, but he thought it must have been a trick of the light. 

"That's where the Queen lives," Padme explained, "It's the capital of Naboo-- I fall asleep listening to the waterfall. You can hear it all through the city, it's like Theed's heart beat." Her tone dropped towards the end, sliding into longing Anakin now understood all to well. Mother, Mos Espa and everything he'd known were far away from him now, but at least he still knew they were there. Padme held onto her memories because maybe there might not be a Theed anymore. She took his wet hand and they continued on towards where the smell of candy and food under hot light mixed with the faintest strains of an instrument they were both unfamiliar with. 

"What's the worst thing you've ever done?" he asked when they'd settled themselves on a bench near the pavilion. Padme smoothed her blue and white-lined skirts, balancing her plate on her knees. Since most of the food was new to Anakin, she'd chosen unfamiliar dishes as well. They took turns making faces to show their opinions, debating whether the flat rate of five credits had been worth it. 

"The worst thing..." Padme murmured. Delicately, she speared a ripe sphere of purple fruit, closing her eyes when it touched her tongue. Her free hand held out another piece to him. "Try this, it's really good." She studied his reaction, "You don't like it?" 

"Too sweet," he said, nibbling on it anyway. 

"The worst thing was when I hit my sister," Padme's lips pursed together in a small, almost heart shape. "We had a fight, and-- well, I forget what she said, but it made me really angry-- so I struck her across the cheek. She hit me back, and then I think we both started crying. What about you?" 

"I stole a whole stack of coins from Watoo once," Anakin kicked his legs absently, "I made it look like a customer took it, and he never caught on." 

"What did you use it for?" 

Anakin blushed further, "I think I lost it." 

"How about the best thing that's happened to you?" she leaned back against the bench, stretching like a satisfied lemur. 

"Winning the pod race and meeting you," he answered honestly. 

She laughed, not loud but just a little, hand coming to cover her mouth and her blush. "You're too nice to me." The band nearby struck up a tune like when the sun is out and the bright colors get under your skin. Padme's legs moved restlessly in little patterns; Anakin liked the way she danced when she thought no one could see it. 

"What about you?" 

"When I was..." her face darkened, like a brief shadow over the sun, "Well, it was very exciting when the Queen was elected." 

"But that didn't really happen to you," Anakin protested. "Tell me something that's yours." 

"Alright," she took a breath, and he watched her thoughts play across her face, "I suppose the best time for me was when I passed the Royal examinations. I really knew I could do things on my own then. It was very exciting to go to Theed and live in the Academy dorms, too." 

"You left your home to go to school?" 

"Yes." Their eyes met in an opal-sapphire parallel. 

"How old were you?" he asked, looking at their joined hands. He couldn't remember when they'd come back together. 

"Ten, going on eleven," she answered sweetly. For a minute they were silent; Anakin knew that she too had missed her mother and the familiar things that gradually faded. 

They both turned their eyes to the couples dancing under the ornament lights, their faces lit with red and blue and green and gold. 

"I meant what I said," Anakin let out, "about marrying you someday." 

"Oh, Ani." He thought she sounded confused, and just a little bit hopeful. 

"Wouldn't you like it?" He sat up on his knees and looked into her eyes, feeling her bare shoulders under his small hands. 

"It's not that." She shook her head, and her curls quivered like trees before a storm. "We should get going," the setting sun made four colored ovals in the ebony of her eyes. He saw her sadness waver there, before her arms were all around him and she was crying the last of her worry out. "Thank you," she whispered, "I've gotten all this out now, and it won't distract me during the fight." 

"Nnn," Anakin murmured, thinking she smelled like a thousand good things you see just before you really and truly fall asleep. He pressed his nose to the curve of her neck, saw that their shadows had merged into one where they'd been thrown on the sidewalk. Her tears were on his skin. Softly, he said something that might have warned her, that might have told her he couldn't be brushed off, that he loved her with all the fierce passion of a child trapping a butterfly. His love would always be frozen that way. 

He said-- so quietly she didn't hear-- fisting his hands in her hair, "You're pretty when you cry." 

OWARI


End file.
